The Castle of the Eastern Stars
by Keytripper
Summary: A young chief does all he can to save his village from starvation. A demon fights between his love for another and order in the world. A girl tries to find the courage she is known for in a desperate situation. This is not HTTYD as you know it, folks. Things are dark, twisted, and the truth is hard to find. Sometimes it takes work to see the stars in the night sky. Rated T .
1. Chapter 1

It was no ordinary day on Berk, but the first day of spring. The last of the snowstorms had finally melted the day before, and usually the Vikings looked forward to waking up the next morning to stare out at the clear, bright sunrise, the first of the warm months. Snotlout looked forward to such a morning, a morning that signified that change was possible, that the wasteland of Berk would one day rise again to its former greatness.

As he thought these things, the chief stared out at the sea. He had woken up early so as not to miss the sunrise. He was one of the few to see it, as the others did not believe in hope anymore. Even his friend Fishlegs had failed to come up with a good plan for this year, and usually his advice was the best Snotlout had to go on. Even the occasional dragon, which used to feed the village for a good week, had ceased to visit the island for a good year. Ha! Good. As if. The chief as a boy would joke about such things, but he was no boy any longer. Not after his father starved along with his brother, along with the twins and half of Berk. The last Chief had done all he could, even to the point of selling out one of his own, the girl who was to be his wife, to the enemy, who still was not an ally.

Astrid Hofferson was beautiful and strong. Along with Stoick, she had saved what was left of their people. Yet, even she knew that her time was up when the Master came for her. It was a surprise she had rebelled, for while she was known for her loyalty to Berk, she would do anything to keep those she loved safe. Even if that meant surrender; at least, Snotlout the Strong thought she was like that, before she left.

He could remember the day, a year ago, the last time a dragon had ever been seen. The Master landed outside her home on his black demon of a dragon as all those nearby threw themselves on the ground in reverence. The Master, who always wore black scaled armor with a mask the same color, walked into the home of the young woman, who was but sixteen. They came out a minute later, her face expressionless as the Master lifted her roughly and set her on the beast's back. Her hands were tied behind her, and with minimal struggling she appeared as if she were a shrunken version of herself.

She was not the first to suffer at the hands of the Master. Those who conspired were either killed brutally by one of his dragons, or taken by him himself. While her fate was uncertain, a more grusome death than dragon-mauling was high on the list of possibilities.

Stoick the vast followed the Master out of the Hofferson home, kneeled before him and presented to him Astrid's axe.

"You did well to spare your people," said the Master, and many lifted their heads to hear him speak, for he hardly ever did. "Yet, I still cannot tolerate disobedient tribes.".

And with that, the Master lifted Astrid's axe up before ending the life of the chief with one blow. After removing the axe, he set it on the ground and his dragon melted it with one shot onto the stony road. Then he mounted and flew away.

No one knew how she had conspired, but they all knew she was never coming back.

Now Snotlout was the Chief, since the previous heir had disappeared ten years before this fateful day, and few remembered him. A scrawny boy of nine, just a year older than Snotlout at the time, when he disappeared half the village was glad as his cousin had the better makeup to be a chief. But now that he was chief, Snotlout was anything but ready.

But now, hope was all you could hold on to. Even if Fishlegs hadn't a plan and the village hadn't food: Snotlout would try his hardest to save his island, even if it meant dying for it, like Stoick, Astrid, and his Father...

* * *

 _Thank you for taking the time to read this! I will make this into a full-length story ifit is recieved well and gets lots of favorites, follows, and most of all reviews!_

 _And I think you get the general feel for how this story is going to be, and I appologize for the character death, but it's how this story goes, as a slightly darker version of things._


	2. As told by Valka

_Thank you for such positive reviews and support!_

 _Just so you do not get confused, this story does not necessarily take place in chronological order._

* * *

Valka lived alone, surrounded by the cave of ice she had known for nearly twelve years. At least, it lacked another human presence, for it was full of dragons. Some had been there longer than she had, and were as old as the ice cave itself. Most, however, she had freed from hunters and trappers and traders, horrible people who had no soul. Under the alpha, they could finally live in peace and freedom. Dragons and humans were meant to live in harmony, not at war with each other; this was the truth she stood by, the truth that kept her going.

Sometimes she was tempted to return home. Long ago, as a young maiden, she had fallen in love with a chief. The two were swiftly wed, which was fine because each found in the other the kind of connection that made all else seem meaningless. She had a child in her first year of marriage, a little boy named Hiccup. It made her proud, seeing so much of herself in the babe, and would not let the villagers scorn him for being weak and frail. It did not matter if custom said he should be tossed into the sea. He was her son. Luckily her husband loved the child even more than she did, and his pride swelled whenever he saw the lad.

He would grow up loved.

She was foolish. She thought Vikings could change, so every raid she succeeded in making a fool of herself. Even Stoick, her love, would not listen to her.

But the gods surely wanted her here, didn't they? By the time she had learned to ride Cloudjumper, she had been gone for so long that returning might have been harder for Berk than it would have been for her. She should just let them think her dead and let Berk continue to live in the dark ages. Everyone was better off that way.

After all, that life was behind her now.

"Come on Cloudjumper," she called. Her dragon came to a slow glide beside her. Using her hook, she swung herself onto his back, and the two shot out of the cave and into the dark night, the sky full of stars.

When they neared the place they were searching for, Cloudjumper let out a growl. This was where Drago stored his most dangerous dragons, in preparation for the day when he would extend his arm over the Archipelago. The fort was built into the side of a mountain, and everything was dragon proof. It had taken months to find this place.

Unseen and silent, Valka snuck down one of the tunnels, which was gently lit by the light of torches. This place did not have a lot of personnel because it was such a secret, and most of its weapons were to stop dragons breaking out, not someone breaking in.

Down the tunnel, she saw many dragons, caged and chained and muzzled, watching her with sunken eyes. Some of them were so rare she had never seen one of their species before.

She would free them all on her way back out.

When she reached the end of the tunnel, she peaked over the corner into a large room. Half of it was separated by a thick layer of dragon-proof bars, and inside this cage was a sleek, black dragon.

She hid back against the wall. This was a night fury, second only to an alpha.

And then she heard a laugh, like the laugh of a child. She peeked her head around the corner. With the night fury was a boy. Three guards watched them intently from outside the cage, but the boy ignored them as he played with the dragon. Valka had never seen anything quite like it before.

She crept up behind the guards quickly knocked them out. The boy looked at her with wide eyes, and she could sense fear in the dragon beside him.

She snatched the keys from one of the guards and unlocked the door. The boy retreated to the corner, and he stared at Valka with hard eyes. "I am here to help," she said as she approached the night fury. She used one of her tricks to calm him down and unchained him from the wall. It was then that she noticed the prosthetic tailfin.

The boy finally spoke. "Only I can fly him."

She looked at the boy and nodded. His left leg, she now noticed, was cut off just below the knee and replaced with a prosthetic. There was something familiar about him, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of guards heading down the tunnel. She was half out the cage when she realized that the boy wasn't following her, and neither was the dragon. "Come on," she whispered hurriedly, but the boy stayed where he was. She found herself lost looking into his eyes, wondering why he would not follow her...

Could it be?

She reached out and touched his chin as he stepped back, scared. She saw the scar on his chin...

"Hiccup?"

The boys eyes widened, but there was no time to lose. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him behind her until he started to run alongside her, and left the room, his night fury never leaving his side.

She and Cloudjumper were able to rescue the rest of the dragons and fight off the guards, and somehow found themselves flying next to the boy on his dragon. He did not speak, but he followed them.

Finally Hiccup raised his voice over the wind. "How do you know who I am?"

Just then they turned into the ice cave, and after a winding of tunnels they finally landed inside. As soon as they were on the ground, Valka threw off her helmet and ran to her son, embracing him, crying into his shoulder. This was her baby, and despite everything the gods had returned him to her.

"Who are you?"

She stepped back and wiped her eyes. "I'm your mother Hiccup!"

He stepped back again, but was instantly tackled by his dragon, who seemed overjoyed to be free with his human once more. But Hiccup didn't laugh. Once Toothless had leaped off to play with the other dragons, Hiccup stood back up and faced his so-called mother. "My mother died."

"But I didn't die, Hiccup. I was carried off here by Cloudjumper. He never meant to hurt me."

"Then why didn't you come back?"

Valka's heart broke. "I'm sorry Hiccup. I thought I could do more good here."

"Protecting Dragons instead of being there when I needed you? A mother wouldn't do this. You are not my Mom." He ran to his dragon and took off. Valka followed him, thinking he would leave, but instead he stopped in one of the caverns and curled up next to his dragon. Valka decided to leave them alone.

As the months went by, Hiccup hardly ever spoke other than to Toothless. When he did, Valka tried to steer the conversation away from what had happened to him, and so she never ended up figuring that out. What mattered was that her son was safe by her side. "How did you lose your leg?" She did ask one time. His face dropped. "When I tried to escape. Toothless lost his tailfin when we were shot down the first time. They kept me so he could have a rider. They let me build the prosthetics for the both of us."

"You made them? That is amazing craftsmanship!" She said, trying to lighten his spirits.

"Mom, should I go back to Berk?" He asked one day.

"No, Hiccup. They can never understand dragons. All they know is war. If we go back, we will have to give up this kind of a life."

One day the two of them were out on a flight. "Mom, you seem happy today."

"I was just thinking about the fact that your birthday was coming up."

"What do you mean?"

"You should turn thirteen next week."

Hiccup smiled. "I'd forgotten."

That evening, when they were eating dinner, a loud sound was heard, like a lot of people yelling at once. They rushed to the entrance to the cave and saw a fleet of ships and armored dragons. "Stay here!" She yelled to her son as she and Cloudjumper went to the aid of the alpha to protect the dragons.

The fight began. While Drago's alpha waged war with the good alpha, the dragons fought amongst themselves and the human army of hunters and trappers as well. And then Valka heard the whistle of a night fury and several of the ships went up in purple fire.

She didn't like the idea of her son fighting a madman, but they needed all the help they could get.

And then a loud roar was heard. Drago's alpha had knocked the good Alpha over, and in one blow killed their chances of victory. The only way now was to take out the head.

Valka jumped off of Cloudjumper while in a dive, knocking Drago to the ground. The two fought for several minutes, each with their weapons. Finally, Drago gained the upper hand, and threw her into a rock.

"You fight well," he said as he removed her helmet. "For a woman." And then he let out a loud warcry, swinging his fishhook in the air. The remaining Alpha turned to face them. Suddenly, hoards of dragons dove at Valka. She couldn't run, and didn't even have a chance to scream.

Drago's sick laugh was interrupted when a plasma blast caught him off guard, then another. His cloak blocked the blast. He brought himself to his feet again. The night fury tired. He could kill it with his bare hands, especially since it could not fly away without its rider…

But instead of lunging for the beast, Drago stumbled forward, and fell to the ground. A knife stuck out of the back of his throat. On the handle were engraved he initials H.H.H.

The Alpha, confused, dove into the water. The dragons, equally confused and with no more compulsion to fight amongst themselves, either landed nearby or circled overhead. One large, boulder-class dragon walked right up to Hiccup and lowered its head. The boy went over and stroked its snout. Soon other dragons began to do the same. When the captain of Drago's men saw how the beasts obeyed this boy without the control of an alpha dragon, yet this boy possessed one all the same, he came forward along with some of his more loyal men. "What do you wish of us, Dragon Master?"

Hiccup liked the sound to that. "Come on Toothless," he said coldly. Drago's men stepped back several steps when the dragon growled at them, intent on protecting his boy from whatever seemed to be making him upset. "We have work to do."

* * *

 _So the focus in this story is not really_ how _he turned dark, but I know this is crucial information to the story as a whole so I decided to put this in early on. Once again, please feel free to follow, favorite, and review! I love reading your reviews!_


	3. Brighter Than the Sun

These lines were found in an old journal many years after they were written.

I will let you guess who wrote them and when.

* * *

 _Her hair is as golden as the sun._

 _I long to touch it,_

 _feel it against my fingers,_

 _Feel it against my cheek._

 _I want to cut it so I could always keep a part of her with me_

 _But I do not want to ruin the way it curls amongst itself as it runs through the braid down her shoulder._

 _._

 _Her eyes are like the sea._

 _I am afraid that if I keep staring_

 _I will be sucked into them._

 _Yet I cannot look away._

 _I want to pull her close_

 _But in her eyes she is far away_

 _._

 _Her heart lies across the sea_

 _Her soul dwells on the path to Valhalla_

 _For she is a Valkyrie._

 _._

 _Her mind is as strong as groncle iron._

 _Not even the strongest flame can break into it._

 _Her strength is stronger than dragon's hide._

 _Out of her mouth flows sweet words of death._

 _She longs for destruction in her center_

 _But from afar she is beautiful._

 _._

 _In her eyes I see fear, and I want to comfort her_

 _In her eyes I see determination, and I want to be with her_

 _In her eyes I see hate, and I want to know her_

 _In her eyes I can see longing, and I want to kill her._


	4. Raid

Fishlegs was a bit chubbier than most fifteen-year-olds, and while his extra weight was indeed muscle... he was a very strong viking... he was not a fighter, but a thinker, and wasn't super at fighting dragons. Of course, there was only one other fifteen-year-old to compare himself too, and Fishlegs had no interest in beating Snotlout at anything. Plus they hadn't gone through dragon training yet, so neither of them had actually killed a dragon yet. Beaten several up? Of course. They were vikings, after all."Hey Guys, slow down!" Fishlegs panted as he ran through the forest. "I can't keep up!"

"Well you know what they say!" said Tuffnut, a bit ahead of Fishlegs. He and his sister were both a year younger than the other two boys. "If you can't run..."

"Don't run at all!" finished his twin sister, Ruffnut, right before tripping over a log.

Soon after they reached a clearing, at the edge of which the group hid behind some bushes. In the clearing was a Deadly Nadder, sleeping in the late afternoon sunshine.  
Snotlout stepped forward. "Don't worry guys, the Snotman is on the job!" Eager to show off to his friends, and hopefully kill his first dragon, he crept up behind the beast. The Nadder wasn't only asleep, but was facing the other direction; the job was easy, especially for a viking as capable as Snotlout. Yet it did scare him a little, approaching a dragon. But it was the viking thing to do.

He grew closer, each step more steady than the last, a mace firm in his grip. Ever since his cousin died, he was next in line for the Chiefdom. His father would often remind him that a responsible leader was the one to stand up and do what needed to be done, without the slightest hint of cowardice; so, he watched his footing, and prepared to charge, when Ruffnut yelled out, "If you die, can I have your Mace!?"

The Nadder was instantly up, and shot at Snotlout a round of poisonous spines, and Snotlout dropped the mace and ran for cover. But then a blond girl ran out from the trees yelling a fierce battle cry; her axe hit the Nadder head-on, and it stumbled backwards and whimpered, before taking off.

The teens all stared at her. "What?" She asked them as she started to clean blood off of her blade. At only thirteen, Astrid was already the best in the group in the art of dragon-killing.

"Hey Astrid, you wanna come hang out at my house later?" asked Snotlout in a flirtatious way.

"Sure thing, Snot."

The boy's face lit up. "Really Babe?"

She punched him very hard in the shoulder and it knocked him to the ground. Fishlegs winced, and the twins started laughing, as Astrid turned and walked to the edge of the clearing, and stopped. Fishlegs saw her visible pale; worry was not something to be seen on Astrid Hofferson's face, so he quickly stepped over to where she was, to see what she was staring at. Off in the distance, against the setting sun, was what at first appeared to be a black cloud. In reality, it was a swarm of dragons. There were at least a thousand, maybe more, headed their way. The most the island had seen before at one time was close to a hundred.

"Is that a yes?" Snotlout asked as he stood back up, glaring at the twins. Finally he saw it too.

The friends stood in silence for a few moments, as if confirming what their eyes were seeing. Finally Fishlegs weakly spoke up; "We need to tell the Chief."

* * *

The raid was the worst Berk had ever seen before. Well into the night, the battle raged on, the village burned, and Vikings, near out of breath and bloodied from head to toe, put up a fight of legends. And then the night fury showed up. Whatever defenses and towers remained were soon gone, with an eerie whistle and a blast as the dark form shot across the sky before returning to the black abyss.

Finally dawn broke, and the dragons began to retreat from whence they came. And it was then that the night fury came down from the sky. As it grew closer, Stoick saw the unbelievable; a person was riding that dragon. Under black armor, he was barely distinguishable from the beast's back, but if only for a second, he was there: clear as the sun as it broke the horizon. The night fury blasted the center of the village, leaving the ground blackened for many years to come.

As quick as it came, it was gone. Half the village had been burned to the ground. More Hooligans had died that night than ever before. Yet not a single body was missing, though many were burnt to the bone; neither were any animals carried off, as many were each previous raid. The monsters took nothing but lives and livelihoods.

After a while, things began to settle down. The village was rebuilt, lives were repaired, and the teenagers completed dragon training. New defenses were devised, not enough to defend against the kind of attack they had received, but it was something. They even started to forget about it happening at all, and to move on. If anything, it was simply a motivation from the gods for them to grow even stronger.

One day, a ship returned from trade with a neighboring tribe on a nearby island, the Berserkers. The sail was on fire, and they struggled to make it to shore. When they did, nearly all of Berk gathered to help the men into the docks and to ask them what had happened. "Man or dragon?" Asked Spitelout.

"Dragons!" Said one of the sailors. The villagers settled down then, starting to make repairs on the ship; dragon attacks were common on sea voyages, but an attack by men meant there was an enemy to be avenged or prepared for. One of the traders followed the chief, until there was no one around. "Chief, it wasn't just a dragon attack."  
"What was it then?" Stoick said with a sigh.

"We made it near the island when we saw that it was surrounded by dragons. More than we could count. They didn't seem to be attacking, but the island was on fire. We feared it may have been destroyed. We tried to draw closer, to check for survivors, but when we did we were attacked, as though they were trying to keep us away; they ignored us once we turned back."

Stoick was quiet for a moment, before storming off.

A week later, another raid happened. While many feared it would be as large as the previous raid, there were only twenty or thirty attacking when it started, so the vikings figured they would easily outmatch them with their newly-build defense systems.

Needless to say, they figured wrong.


	5. Here I Write My Final Words

_Here I write my final words._ _I don't want anyone to read this, and I don't even know why I am writing this. Maybe it is because there is no one to talk to, and nothing else to do. I don't know why he left me this journal. The pencil is dull and fragile, I have to write carefully to keep it from breaking._

 _Ever since I was nine years old I've kept a small knife hidden in my boot. I've only ever used it once or twice, and sometimes I forget it's there. But somehow, when I check my boot, it is gone. I don't remember being searched, but somehow he knew where all of my blades were kept, and had his dragons swipe them. That's the only explanation I can think of._

 _I thought for sure he was going to feed me to his dragons. Just minutes into the ride here - I can't remember even leaving Berk, my mind was in a different place - we were surrounded by a swarm of all different kinds of dragons. I fell off the side of the Master's Dragon and was grabbed by a set of claws. I kept fighting and screaming, and I couldn't even see the sun because they were so thick. I knew I was going to die, but somehow in all of the mess, being clawed at and trying to get out, I was finally knocked out by the chaos. Then I woke up here._

 _My clothes are still where they should be, but every little thing I normally have stashed in the folds is gone. Even my hairpins are gone. Luckily my Kransen is still in my hair. Maybe if I'm lucky I will have the chance to strangle him with it. The room is surprising. I woke up with a few cuts and bruises, but no major injuries. The room is bare and made out of stone bricks. There is a bed, but no other furniture. The bed is bolted into the stone on the floor, I know because I tried to break it apart in order to pry the door open. The door is wooden, but it has pieces of metal built into it. Whoever built it built it to be strong. I wonder if anyone was trapped here before me. I can't see if there is blood stains or not, it's too dark to see much. All I can see is a bit of light that comes from under the door._

 _I have to hold this journal at an angle in order to see enough to write. If I had been left a candle, I would have tried to burn the door down already, but if it weren't for the light from the slit I think I would go crazy._

 _.._

 _The first night I was here I fell asleep in the corner of the room, after hiding the journal as best as I could behind the bedframe. I was too overwhelmed to think of sleeping in the bed. Have I mentioned the bed yet? It's bolted to the floor, but that isn't all. The sheets are soft, but they aren't made of fur or wool. I don't know what they are made of, but they are nice, which is very weird. Why lock someone in a dark room and give them nice sheets?_

 _I have had awful thoughts ever since coming here, and most of them involved The Master. At the beginning of the third day, I woke up to a bright light of the door opening. I couldn't see who it was, because before my eyes adjusted the door was locked again. I heard them lock multiple bolts. They left me a glass of water on the floor next to the door. The same thing happened the next morning, this morning, and once again I missed the door opening. I will try to stay awake as long as I can because if I can be ready, I can escape the next time the door opens._

 _.._

 _I tried to catch the door, but I fell asleep._

 _..._

 _The next morning I was up early and saw the door open, but I couldn't even get out of bed. I hadn't had anything to eat in at least a week. I've had to starve before, but even though I can ignore the pain, I have become weak. I can't run very far even if I catch the door on time._

 _I lost track of time, but one afternoon a few days later (at least I think it's afternoon, the light goes off at certain times and a gauge day and night by that), I was lying on my side away from the door when I heard it open. As fast as I could, which took a few seconds, I sat up and turned to look at the door, which was closed by then. I expected to see something left by the door, but instead, I found myself staring into a black mask covered in dragon scales. He stood there, next to the door, and I hadn't even heard him come in._

 _I couldn't move or make a sound. I stared at me for a solid minute, and each second I was certain that he would pull out his fire-sword or do something even worse. If he did, I wouldn't even have been able to fight back. Finally, he turned and left through the door, locking it behind him. Once my eyes again adjusted to the dark, I tried to crawl off the bed when I felt something hard at the foot of the bed. It was a tray with food on it._

 _..._

 _Each day he comes in the afternoon and brings me food. I don't eat it until he leaves, but it is hard to wait. He comes in and sits at the foot of the bed. He doesn't do anything; he just looks at me. I stand as far from him as possible, and he doesn't try to move towards me. Sometimes he will spend hours at a time without moving a muscle. Eventually, each time, he leaves._

 _Each day I grow stronger. I have lots of plans for how I will kill him. The bedsheets, the only thing not bolted down, might be strong enough to use as a weapon. I saved a chicken bone from one of the meals and sharpened it against the metal on the door, and hid it under the pillows. If he ever makes a move to come closer to me, I have plans upon plans of what I'll do. But he never comes closer, and I can never build up the resolve to make a move first. Maybe when I'm stronger again I can finally kill him like I swore I would years ago._

 _..._

 _Today I sta r__

* * *

A/N: I know, I haven't updated in a while. I finally figured out certain things for this story that I was stuck on before, and hopefully this time I will finish what I started.


	6. The Vow

The wreckage was still smoking when they searched the heaps for anything salvageable. Just because a building had collapsed, and been burned, and trampled by fire-breathing lizards did not mean they couldn't retrieve anything that could still prove useful from the ashes. At least, that was what the young teenagers were told so they would stay out of the way while the adults did the hard work of rebuilding the village. Again.

"Found something!" yelled Tuffnut, as he lifted up a black rod from the rubble.

"Let me see!" yelled his sister as she tackled him to the ground.

"Give it here, I saw it first, chicken brain!"

By the time Astrid got there, the rod was on the ground a distance from the twins, though they continued to fight over it. She picked it up; one end of the object was shaped like a dragon head. It looked like the hilt of a sword, but without a blade, and it was covered in black dragon scales.

She handed it to Fishlegs, who examined the object with wide eyes. He gasped. "Do you think it's… "

Astrid nodded. "It must be. Who else owns anything covered in black dragon scales?"

"What do you suppose it does?"

Snotlout suddenly shoved Fishlegs over and grabbed the object. "Who cares? I'm gonna add this to my trophy room. Who else owns something that belonged to the Dragon Master? Nobody!"

"It's mine!" said Tuffnut, who was still fighting with Ruffnut. "I'll just tell everyone you took it from me."

"Haha! Like anyone would believe you two could take anything from the Demon!"

"Are… are you sure it's a Demon?" asked Fishlegs nervously.

"Who else could _ride_ the spawn of lightning and death?"

"Actually…" Astrid spoke up. "I just had an idea!"

"What is it?" asked Fishlegs as he tried to pull himself back out of the rubble. She gave him a hand up and then shared her idea.

"So you know how we can't trade with other islands?"

"Yeah," said Snotlout, lowering the object. "The Chief says the food stores are getting dangerously low, but every time someone tries to leave, the ship gets sunk by a hoard of angry Scaldrons."

Astrid continued. "Yeah, and if we could somehow fly on the backs of dragons like this _demon_ , then we could fly _above_ the angry Scaldrons and trade that way."

The others stared at her for several seconds - even the twins stopped their fight - before they all started to laugh.

" _Ride dragons_?" Snotlout howled with laughter. "That's almost as great as the twins' idea to turn leaves into sheep!" This renewed an argument about the plausibility of that idea, and while it would indeed be very beneficial to turn all the stray leaves into sheep, it just didn't make logical sense, something the twins never factored into the equation.

Meanwhile, the cogs had begun to turn in young Astrid's mind, and after several minutes she blurted out, "I guess I'll just kill him then."

Once again the group fell silent.

"Um, Astrid…" Fishlegs spoke up. "I don't think that makes logical sense."

"We have to stop him! He's killed us, and burned our village to the ground, and won't let us leave! What else are we going to do?"

Snotlout nodded. "Yeah, but how are _you_ going to kill him?"

She thought for a moment, then reached out for the black object. "I need this."

Snotlout pressed the object to his chest and shook his head, but eventually, he caved under Astrid's glare and handed it over.

* * *

The night of the next raid, most of the Vikings were to the South of the village, where the Dragons were burning down crops. Some of the plots had houses under construction and some of the junk had been cleared away, but the heaps of rubble were quiet. On one large pile of burned logs was the black object. Out of the silence landed the night fury, whose rider dismounted and approached the pile. The Master grabbed the object and looked it over, before hitting a switch. A blade shot out of the object and caught aflame; after a few moments, he turned off the flaming sword and hooked it to his side.

Suddenly he heard something, the sound of the rubble being disturbed, and turned just in time to duck out of the way of an axe.

Astrid swung again, barely missing the dragon-scaled armor the dragon master wore. She let out a war cry and ran for him again.

It took little effort to avoid her attacks. Each time he stepped back, and on the third swing, he swung his arm across the handle as it went by his head, knocking the axe out of her reach.

She stepped back, but she didn't run away. Somehow she was still fully intent on trying to end him.

The Master spoke. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You attacked my village," she panted. "I have to kill you!" She ran for him, grabbing an old sword from the ground and aiming for his gut. He whipped out his fire sword and their blades met.

"You are just a little girl."

He swung first this time, but the girl spun out of the way, and brought her momentum around and kicked him in the face. He stumbled back, angry, and decided to end this game and finally kill her when he suddenly realized his mask had been knocked off by the girl's boot.

Astrid retrieved her axe and ran for him again, but he grabbed his mask from the ground and mounted his dragon before flying off.

"COWARD! Come and face me! I will kill you, Dragon Master! I SWEAR IT!"

At the time, Astrid was too young to realize he had been toying with her, and her foolishness almost got her killed that night. But as she grew, as she trained for her goal, she became someone worthy to fight him again.

She only saw a small glimpse of his face. He looked young, and though she quickly forgot what he looked like, sometimes she would see the face in her dreams. Though he rode dragons, he was still just a man, just a _boy_ , and she clung onto this weakness with the hope that one day she would get to end the demon's life.


	7. The Attempt

The pencil finally snapped. Astrid knew it was going to happen eventually, and though she had taken care to steady it while she wrote, there was only so much she could do. Even if she hadn't done much writing while the pencil still functioned, it was still frustrating to no longer have the option to journal her thoughts.

She tried to sharpen the pencil against the metal of the door, but the led had been shattered, so she only ended up sharpening the brittle wood. Then came the thought to simply ask for another pencil - she cursed herself for even thinking such a thought. If she was going to say anything to her captor, it sure as Helheim wasn't going to be to ask him for a pencil. She might as well thank him for locking her in a dark room, or thank him for letting her people starve and die. Not an option.

She'd been doing all she could to build up her strength. It was hard with barely anything to eat or drink, but as someone who had trained all of her life to become a warrior, even pulling up on the bed frame was better than sitting there with nothing to do.

That afternoon, like every other, the Master came to the room and brought her food and water. He sat on the side of the bed, and instead of standing away from him, she didn't move but stayed sitting on the edge of the bed just a couple of feet away from him. She wanted him to know she wasn't afraid of him, and even though she _was_ afraid of him, acting like she wasn't felt good.

It was harder to glare at him now that he was so much closer to her, so she let her eyes wander more. As she glanced across the bed, her eyes spotted the broken pencil from earlier in the day. Though it was no longer usable as a pencil, maybe it could be used for something else. She was tired of sitting here each day knowing her captor was still alive.

His eyes never left her, and she needed them to. She glanced at the tray he had brought her and didn't look away, like she was actually interested in the food. It took a few moments, but he eventually gave way to his curiosity and turned his head slightly to follow her line of sight.

As soon as his eyes left her, she lunged at his mid-section, using their body weight to throw him backwards onto the bed. He scrambled to right himself, and as they were near the foot of the bed, he tried to get off because it was much easier for him to fight that way. She was expecting this and wasn't going to give him that advantage.

Astrid quickly yanked her kransen from her hair, and grasping it firmly with both hands, she threw it over the Master's head and pulled it tightly around his neck. After a moment he gasped, but instead of his hands going to his neck as she anticipated, he reached back and grabbed her legs, throwing her forward onto the bed. She lost her grip on the kransen, but her hand found the broken pencil, and she stabbed him in the arm. The wood splintered, unable to penetrate his armor. He struck her across the face. She grabbed ahold of the sheets and rolled, tangling his legs and keeping him from getting off the bed quickly, which gave her a chance to jump on top of him. Even though he was caught up in the sheets, he locked his legs around hers and flipped her to the side.

Though he was now on top of her, she still had a fighting chance. She repeatedly kicked him as hard as she could in the gut, and he struggled to keep himself on top. If she could get that helmet off of him, she would have an opening. He dove to the side suddenly, towards the headboard, and she tried to use the opportunity to roll out from under him. Before she could, she felt something very small, something very sharp, press up against her neck.

When she had planned this fight out, running through the scenarios in her mind, she had determined that he would be easier to defeat if she had a weapon on her, something he didn't expect her to have. So when she'd found a piece of chicken in one of her meals, she took one of the bones and spent hours sharpening it down. She'd hidden it under her pillow, somewhere where it was out of sight but easy to grab. But with the bedding going everywhere as they fought, her pillow must have been moved; he had used her own surprise weapon against her.

She held her head back as far as she could, but he kept pressing the bone against her skin until she was tightly held between him and the bed. He quickly changed his position so she couldn't move. She was now completely powerless, and she knew it.

Astrid scrambled to think of a way out, but there wasn't one. He was stronger than her, and anything he chose to do to her she would be helpless to prevent. Her heart pounded as he leaned closer to her face, and though she couldn't see him through his mask, she would have sworn he had a smirk on his face. She struggled to breathe, almost hoping he would just slit her throat with the bone so she wouldn't have to go through any more.

A dragon's roar was heard. He ignored it. Then another set of roars was heard from just outside the door, louder than before. The Master turned his head and shouted, "What the Hell is it!?"

He slowly climbed off of her, still pressing the bone to her neck. Once he was off the bed, he released her. He grabbed what was left of the pencil, and seeing her journal wedged behind the bed, he grabbed this as well. Then he turned back to her, and after a few seconds, he reached across the bed, grabbed her kransen from where it was tangled in the sheets, and left, bolting the door and leaving Astrid in the dark.

She didn't move from the bed. Unable to hold the tears at bay, she curled into herself and cried.

* * *

 _A/N: Official thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and/or reviewed this story! (even if many of the reviews are over a year old, looking at the amazing reception to this story is what encouraged me to continue it). I also want to hear your opinions about what happens, so please tell me what you think!_


	8. Stone Walls and Scaled Wings

The next day no one came. On previous days when no one had come, Astrid was never so tormented as she was today. On those days, she had spent her time plotting, clinging to the hope that she could somehow get out of this alive. Every moment she was certain she would be killed or tortured, and as the fighter she was, the thought of going out that way didn't seem so bad. At least then she would have given it her all, fought the demon off with all that she had. In her last moments, she could cling to that fire within her and die a warrior's death. But now, she was afraid. Not of the Master, or of no one bringing her anything to eat, but of the possibility that she would be left alive. Alive, having failed to kill him. She could have fought harder or waited until she had regained more strength, but she had tried too early and failed. She failed to avenge her people, and she would have to live with that failure for however long she was alive...

...and why was she alive? He could have killed her at any time. Maybe he was about to yesterday when his dragons interrupted. There was a fearful thought in the back of her mind that killing her wasn't his intent then; maybe killing her was never his intent.

The next morning she heard footsteps outside her door. There was the sound of the bolt being unlatched... and then the footsteps faded back down the passage.

She sat there in the darkness several moments, thinking she had dreamt it. But when she tried the door, she found it to be unlocked. All of her worrisome thoughts disappeared as light from the passage flooded into the dark room, the door slowly swinging open. Squinting against the light, Astrid wearily stepped from the room into the empty passageway.

The walls and floor of the passage were made of large, grey stone bricks. It was empty and long, with several other doors jutting off on the same side as her cell; torches went along the opposite wall. The hallway curved at either end, and she turned towards the end that was closest. Around the corner was a large door, lined like the others with bands of metal. It was cracked open.

After this door was a maze of hallways. She took a left, then a right, then hit a dead end. She had to double back around and retrace her steps, and finally discovered a staircase and climbed to the next floor. Except for the glow of torches against the grey stone, there were no signs that anyone lived here. Everything was empty, and though she didn't waste time trying any of the doors she passed, she had expected to see some sign of the Master or at least one of his many dragons sleeping off in some dark corner. She had never seen a building like this, so large and winding yet she hadn't even seen a window. Maybe she was underground? No, then no one would have bothered to line the walls with bricks.

She reached another staircase and ascended to the next floor. She cautiously glanced around the corner, making sure no one was there, and then took several steps down this passage when she saw light coming from around a corner. She turned it and saw a large open window, and a bright blue sky. After being locked so long in the darkness, the sight made her gape in awe; this amazement quickly gave way to excitement as she ran to the opening, knowing that with it came the possibility of freedom. She saw the open sky, and then the sea, stretching out to the horizon... and then far below a rocky slope where the building started. Instead of being underground, which is what the dim tunnels had felt like, she was a few stories up.

Well, no matter, all she had to do was climb down. She put her palm on the sill, but then before she could hoist herself up into the opening the sky was blocked out by scaled wings and claws. She cried out, hitting the floor as multiple dragons flew past the opening, blotting out the light.

"I'd be careful with them," came a voice. She turned her head to see a strong, dark-haired man standing at a table. "If you don't fall to your death, they'll be happy to finish the job."

He wasn't the Master; Astrid had never seen this man before. She jumped to her feet, prepared to defend herself, but the man didn't approach her or seem concerned about her presence. "...who?.."

"I was wondering when you'd be up," he said, taking a seat at the table. "I am Eret, son of Eret."

She glanced back to the window, and though the sky was once again visible, dragons continued to swoop by. She turned back to the man. Maybe he could help her get out of here. "I'm Astrid Hofferson."

"I know. The Master had to leave and he told me to take care of you in his absence." He gestured to a plate across the table from his. "I made you breakfast." He began to eat from his plate like this was just a regular Tuesday for him.

This instantly brought many questions to her mind, along with a considerable amount of confusion. However, she could not deny the immediate hunger. She should eat, and then she could find a way out of here. She slowly made her way to the table and began to eat. After just a few bites, she could hold back her questions no longer. "Why am I here?"

"I figured you would rather be up here than cooped up in your room, so I..."

"No, I meant, why am I _here_?"

He nodded, understanding what it was she was asking. "I don't know."

"Is there a way out of here?"

He shook his head. "Even if you get outside, the only way off the island is by Dragon flight. There is a boat offshore, but it's guarded by dragons. For someone who is scared of dragons, this would be a problem."

"I'm not _scared_ of dragons, I was just startled."

"This wing is cut off from the rest of the castle. Even if we assume you can somehow control the dragons like the Master can, there is no way out."

There was a pause, the thought that she was never leaving this place finally sinking in.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. "Why are you here Eret?"

"Me?" He finished the meal and wiped his face off on a napkin. "I used to be a dragon trapper. Best in the business. I worked for a man named Drago Bludvist. He could control dragons, and his goal was to use his army to conquer the world."

"So, just like the Master?"

"No! Oh, gods no." He pulled down his shirt to show Astrid an ugly, intricate scar across his chest. "Drago didn't care about what happened to his underlings. I have no doubt that if he would have succeeded, he would have massacred all who didn't agree with him. He used the dragons to control people, but he tortured the dragons in doing so. He was on no one's side but his own, and all he cared about was gaining power, and making his enemies pay."

Astrid still didn't see how this was any different from the Master, but she didn't say anything.

"When the Dragon Master killed Drago, it wasn't done because he wanted to take power, but because he wanted to protect those Drago wanted to hurt."

"You mean, he wanted to protect the _dragons_." This made absolutely zero sense to Astrid.

"He spared the hunters and trappers after that. Well, most of them. We all pledged our allegiance to him, and I've been carrying out his will ever since."

"It sounds like you just traded one bad master for another." She scoffed.

Eret frowned. "Maybe. But you have to admit, he's brought more peace than Drago ever could."

 _"Peace!?"_

"Where were you the past three years, living under a rock?"

She stood, furious. How dare this Eret hold him in such high esteem? To torture and starve her people, leaving them desolate? He dare ignore the evils the _Master_ had done to Berk, the evils he had done to her?

But before she could act on her anger, there was a great sound, a thunder of a great many dragons' roars and screeches. It shook the room. Her anger replaced with fear, she looked to Eret, whose eyes had gone wide. "He's back."


	9. Pain

The boy moaned, pulling the blanket tighter over his head.

"Come on, get up and eat!"

"I don't want to get up!" The small boy moaned, clutching his midsection and trying to go back to sleep.

"Fine, I'll just eat it all myself then."

The boy rolled over, rubbing his eyes. "S-Snotlout?"

"Here kid." He handed over two small hunks of bread. The boy took it greedily, almost breaking his teeth on the stale bread.

Before the boy had a chance to thank him, Snotlout was already outside with a sword strapped to his belt. It was snowing, but he ignored the cold. He could not afford to stay inside in the warmth, not with the knawing in his belly.

"Snotlout!" Before he could get far, a voice stopped him. His father, Spitelout, was standing in the doorway. They had rebuilt their home after the raids, but it was still small and unfinished. There were more important things to do than to finish it; it protected them from the cold, and that was all they needed it to do.

"What is it, Dad?"

"I know what you are trying to do. And I appreciate it son, but you need to stop."

"I know we've overhunted, but there might still be something in those woods. We need to eat."

"I know, and we all appreciate that, but you need to stop expecting so much of yourself on an empty belly. Your brother has his portion, and you have yers. If you keep giving away your portions - that's not how rationing works!" Spitelout pulled a small piece of bread out of his pocket. "Here, take this. You need the strength in this cold."

"But I thought we didn't have enough…"

"Just enough son, just enough. Now you take this, and go hunting with yer friends."

Snotlout took the bread and nodded. His father was right; he needed to stay strong. For his family, and for Berk.

Spitelout watched his son go off into the woods with a sad smile. One day, his sons would understand. He went back inside and shut the door behind him, shutting out the cold.

* * *

Snotlout and the other teenagers were far from the village, deep in the cold woods, and come evening they had only managed to catch a couple of small birds. But still, they trudged on until they stumbled upon a strange sight. The trees were covered with scratches and scorch marks. "It looks like a Dragon fight," said Fishlegs.

They heard a dragon's roar and ran towards the sound until they came to a hidden cove. Carefully peering over the edge, the teens saw a monstrous nightmare. It was wounded, a clear tear through its wing; it wasn't able to fly away.

Snotlout spoke first. "We came out here to hunt. I say we kill it!"

"But.. but won't that just make him angry?" Fishlegs didn't need to elaborate; they all knew who he was referring to.

"I don't care," said Astrid. "He didn't say anything specifically against killing dragons, and we need the food." She turned to Snotlout. "What are you waiting for?"

" _Me_?"

"Well you were the one to suggest it," Fishlegs pointed out.

After gathering his courage, Snotlout climbed down into the cove. The nightmare was on the other side of the cove nursing its wound. It hadn't yet seen the future chief, who was carefully circling the frozen pond. Snotlout tried to keep his hand steady around the hilt of his sword despite the cold.

He approached the beast, who turned to greet him with a firey blast. He dove out of the way, waited for the blast to stop, then charged the beast, his sword meeting the creature's horns. The nightmare threw his head up and fired again, but Snotlout had grabbed ahold of its horns. The nightmare thrashed its head, spewing fire in all directions; unable to shake the Viking free, it lit its body on fire. The flames cut through Snotlout's clothes and bit into his skin. He cried out, but he did not let go.

He planted his boots on the dragon's neck, and still holding onto the horns, he threw his weight to the side, throwing the nightmare off balance. Without being able to use its wing to support itself, its head plunged sideways into the ground. Snotlout then sunk his sword into the beast's neck. After a few moments, the dragon went still and the flames burned out.

The twins were the first down into the cove, though Astrid was quick to follow. After making sure Snotlout's clothes were no longer on fire, the group stepped back to look at the still-smoking dragon.

"I did it…" Snotlout's face lit up with a wide grin. "Snotlout! Snotlout! Oy Oy Oy! Haha!"

"All hail glorious chief Snot," said Tuffnut with an overdramatic bow. "For he hath slain this foul beast!"

" _Aaawwwww_ , does this mean we have to eat dragon tonight?" Ruffnut whined. "But dragon gives me indigestion!"

They ran to tell the village, and that night, they feasted like kings. They broke out whatever was left of the ale and lit a great fire in the great hall, where they cooked and feasted on the dragon. Some of them hadn't eaten anything in weeks. Some had already died, from the hunger or the cold. But tonight none of that mattered. Tonight they were saved; even if the meat would only last a short time when divided between so many, the heir of Berk had given them something they were short on: Hope.

Stoick had never been prouder of his nephew and spent the evening boasting of the boy's accomplishments. Snotlout spent the evening at his uncle's table, feasting away with his friends and listening to drunken songs and tales of heroic ventures. The Vikings forgot all about the hunger, and the freezing cold, and the Dragon Master.

The party lasted until dawn, and everyone began to head back to their homes. Snotlout found his brother asleep under a table and shook him awake. "Hey, where's Dad?"

"I don't know," the boy answered when he was awake. "Last night he said he'd get up and be down here in a few minutes, so I ran ahead of him. I guess I didn't see him when he got here."

Many of the other villagers had fallen asleep in the hall, so Snotlout decided to let his brother fall back asleep here in the warmth. He thought of his own comfortable bed back home, and his aching muscles from trudging all day through the snow, and then partying all night. His Dad had probably already gone home to go to sleep, and the thought gave Snotlout the strength to trudge all the way back to his half-built home. After fastening the door shut behind him, he walked over to his bed. Before he laid down, his eyes drifted over to his father's cot. Spitelout had indeed gone to bed, but Snotlout thought it was funny that he hadn't seen his father at the feast. Maybe he was sick and had left early. This thought made the boy pause, and he went over to check on his father to make sure he was alright.

He opened the window to let in the morning light, then he lifted up the man's blanket. When his father was bundled up in furs, he looked no different than he always did, but without the furs, Snotlout was shocked at how feeble his father had become, the bones sticking out against the skin. His skin was pale too, a strange pale, a yellow pale. He needed to see Gothi, she would know what to do. Snotlout shook his father's arm to wake him, but the body was rigid and the skin was cold. He turned the man over, and his eyes were open, the pupils wide even in the sunlight.

His father wasn't awake; his father was dead.


	10. The Empire

There is very little visibility from a ship on a foggy morning. Dragon flight was a far better mode of reconnaissance, and travel, and really everything else. Unfortunately, there was only one individual who could take advantage of the dragons' natural giftings, and that man was not usually Krogan. Once it had been Drago, who elevated the then young man to a position worthy of his skillset. If Drago ever wanted business handled in foreign lands, Krogan was the man he would send, as the Warlord thought it best that he not be revealed to the World until his army was completed.

But now there was a new Dragon Master in control, someone who was more than happy to declare his domination over the Viking lands. The Danes, the Nords, and the Swedes all fell quickly, having long experienced some degree of Dragon-raids; they knew the power of the terrifying beasts, and some even believed a multitude of such beasts to signify the coming of Ragnarok. These Vikings were normally incessantly stubborn, but little had been changed for these groups; each Kingdom was able to maintain its relative monotony, and they were protected from dragon raids. The Dragon Master was more of a diety to them than a conqueror, so each Kingdom could afford to pretend like the Master was in charge whenever he came around.

The Barbaric Archipelago was under a far greater degree of control, but each nation was small and posed no threat to the Empire. The Celts of Ireland and Northern England had been conquered by the Vikings multiple times before, and they did not try to fight against Draconic rule. Most of the rural farmers were terrified of the winged creatures, which made taking control of these lands easy.

Krogan was used to dealing with such foreigners, and so he was a good choice of an ambassador, fulfilling the Dragon Master's diplomatic wishes. At least, whenever the Master felt like being diplomatic. Diplomacy only went so far, especially in this part of the world. Dragons were a better method of keeping the peace. Sometimes the Master would transfer over temporary control of the dragons to him to deal with a threat. The beasts were never truly loyal to Krogan, and they would often pick off a few of his men just to spite him, but he liked having the control that he did. There were few the Dragon Master trusted with such power, and Krogan wasn't afraid of the dragons. His sailors? They were terrified.

While some lands cowered at the sight of a dragon army, some foreigners were not as easily swayed. For example, there was a large fleet of ships approaching out of the fog. Krogan could barely make them out, but he knew they were there. Scouts had sighted them the night before, just off the coast of a group of scraggly, scattered islands near the Irish Coast. They had approached from the South and weighed anchor here because of the fog, but they would probably continue on North as soon as the haze lifted. The fog was already beginning to lift, and the lead ships were now within sight.

They drew up alongside the lead ship, and the sailors called out to one another. There appeared to be a language barrier at first, but eventually, someone on the other ship was found that spoke Norse, and they agreed to let the cloaked man come aboard. As Krogan boarded their ship, it was clear to him that these were Romans, with red garments and armor made of Iron. The Vikings generally were unanimous for their hatred towards the Romans, but Krogan had always admired parts of their culture. The Romans had a strange affinity for dragon meat, and their hides made good boots that would go for a high price in Italy and Greece. They used to make good business for the trappers and dealers in the North. While the Vikings saw the dragons as a power to be feared and hated, the Romans preferred to see them as a useful commodity.

Through the assistance of a translator, the Centurion made their purpose known.

"For the glory of Caesar, we hereby claim these islands for the Roman Empire."

No one lived on these islands, but they were clearly within the Dragon Master's territory. Krogan explained this without paying the Romans any respect. They had no right to claim what did not belong to them, with or without a fleet.

"What _dragon master_ has any right to stop us?" They laughed. "Go tell your Master these islands now belong to Caesar!"

Krogan returned to his ship. They turned and left the fleet, going out to a distance where they could see the Islands and the ships, but were not close enough to be fired upon. He kept his gaze on the fleet. Before the fog had finished clearing, his sailors informed him a swarm of Dragons was approaching from the North. It was not long before he heard several dragons land behind him on the deck, their weight rocking the boat. Dragons saw everything that happened throughout their Master's domain; it was only a matter of time before he showed up to deal with intruders.

The Master dismounted and went over to the cloaked man, his metal leg clanking against the deck with every step. The nearby sailors scurried to other parts of the ship.

Krogan said, "They are Romans. They came to conquer these Islands for Caesar."

The Master was silent for a few moments before he spoke, with a mix of frustration and anger. "Did you speak to them?"

"Yes. They don't care about your army of Dragons."

"I'll put the dragons under your command. Kill them all." The Master turned to mount his Night Fury, but he paused, changing his mind. "Leave one ship. For Caesar."

Krogan couldn't help grinning. "Of course, my Lord."

..

The fog had faded by midday, but it was replaced by thick, black smoke. The horizon was aflame with hundreds of charred ships.

Yes, dragons were always the preferred method.


	11. Eret, Son of Eret

The roars and screeches eventually died down, but not before Eret had run around the table and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards the hall. She wrestled her arm free, nearly tearing his wrist out of socket in the process.

"Agh, why did you…" He cried out, cradling his hand.

Astrid crossed her arms. "Don't touch me again."

He winced, trying to ignore the pain in his wrist. "Fine! Just, follow me then." He started to run down the hall.

"Why?" she demanded.

He stopped. "Do you really want him to find you up here?" It didn't take her long to realize that no, she most definitely did not want that to happen. Without waiting for a response, he turned back down the hall and turned at the staircase. Astrid had to hurry to keep up with him.

She wondered where they were going, but before she could ask, she realized that these hallways were familiar to her and that they were retracing her steps.

"Are you going to lock me back up?"

"No, I'm just going to leave the door open, so when the Master comes down the hall with his army the dragons will have no trouble finding their dinner." She was about to get angry with him, but this comment silenced any argument she was going to make. Eret might not be her friend, but he was afraid. She should be.

Their footsteps echoed against the stone walls and down the hallways, breaking their empty silence. If they had stopped, they might have heard the very faint scrapes of claws against the bricks, or the thunderous weight of the giant lizards in the tunnels above, but just the thought of such things made Astrid's heart beat loud enough to drown out the noise. She ran back into her room, but quickly turned back to the door, not wanting to be caught outside but hating the prospect of being locked once more in the darkness. "Can you let me out again?"

"Maybe." The door was shut and bolted, and Eret left.

Astrid ran her fingers against her scalp and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to focus her racing thoughts. A few minutes later, she heard a set of uneven footsteps, with the distinctive sound of metal hitting the floor. She froze. The crack of light under the door was disrupted; she thought, for a moment, that he was going to open the door. Instead, the footsteps resumed, and he turned and went back down the hall the way he had come.

* * *

Eret did return. Almost every day he came to free her now. The room where she had met Eret was close to a group of rooms which included a kitchen, several empty rooms, and a hallway that Eret claimed as his personal space. Astrid much preferred it up here, where there were windows. It was much better than the dark room. Still, he would return her to her cell and lock the door every evening. Sometimes, he would rush her to her room in the middle of the day; he seemed to instinctively know when the Master was coming, and that he didn't want to see her. But the Master _had_ to know that she was out sometimes; she asked Eret about this, and all he would tell her was that he had permission to let her out because he was supposed to be watching her.

She tried to explore the castle as much as she could. Most of the rooms were empty, but she held out hope that she would come across an old discarded weapon. She once found a dusty room full of rusted armor, but no weapons, like someone had gone and removed them all. Even the knives in the kitchen were small and of little value in a fight.

Sometimes, she would come across a dragon or two in the halls. They left her alone, but she gave them a wide berth. Eret was right when he said this wing was separated from the others; there were a couple of places where it looked like the hallways ended with a different kind of stone. There was one path, just a floor above her room, that she assumed led to the rest of the castle, but that hall was always filled with dragons, usually asleep, from floor to ceiling. She couldn't even see past them, and she assumed that this was where the Master came through. Or, he could come through a window. The floor above the kitchen was very open, with few walls and many windows. More often than not there were more than a few dragons up there, so she tended to avoid the location.

When she wasn't exploring, she was with Eret. Even if they didn't see eye to eye, he made good company.

"Eret? What did you mean when you said - that the Master brought peace?"

"Surely you remember how things were before. People were always fighting off dragon raids. And other people. Hatred for dragons was the only thing that could unite the Chiefs of the Archipelago, and on the mainland everyone was conquering everyone else. Now no one fights. Isn't that a good thing?"

"Isn't that only because they are too scared to fight?"

"Doesn't it save lives?"

Astrid was silent for a moment. "It didn't save any lives on Berk."

Eret's eyebrows raised. "You're from Berk?" She nodded. "No one goes near Berk anymore."

"Why not?"

Eret shrugged. "The Master decreed it. The way he talks about it, he has a real hatred for that island."

"Does the Master talk a lot to you?"

He shook his head. "Not really."

* * *

The Master didn't come into her room anymore. Some days she could hear him outside her door, sometimes late into the night, but he never opened it. He just waited for a minute, just outside, silent enough that she could almost hear him breathing. One night, he fingered the bolt, unlocking the door for only a second before bolting it again and leaving.

That night she didn't get any sleep.

The next day, she spent most of the day by the window in the main room, sitting with her back against the wall. She didn't talk to Eret, and she didn't eat anything. She just watched the clouds drift by until the light began to fade from the sky. She pulled herself to the table then, trying to put something on her stomach, but she was too lost in thought to lift the fork from her plate.

"Are you okay?" It was the seventh time Eret had asked her, she'd been keeping track. She shook her head. "I can make you something else if you want."

She dropped her fork.

"Eret, you have to know something. If he talks to you at all, you must know why he hasn't killed me yet!"

He grimaced. "I'm sorry, I don't. Maybe you should ask him."

"He doesn't say anything to me! He just stands outside my door, or looks at me like…" she couldn't describe it. She didn't want to. "You have to help me, _please_ Eret. Isn't there some way out of here? There must be something you can do!"

Eret, son of Eret, just shook his head.

She grabbed him by the hand. "I'm begging you, I'll do anything. Please." She bit back a lump in her throat. "I think he's going to… take advantage of me."

He ripped his arm away, angry, grabbing his plate and heading for the kitchen. "Look, I don't know why you're here, or what the Master intends to do with you, but whatever it is you probably deserve it."

She just stared at him, in shock at what he had said. Then she snapped out of it, following him into the kitchen. If someone had ever said something like this to her at home, she would have gone home with a bloodied ax. But here, she had no ax, no weapons at all. Even if she did snap his neck, she would likely pay for it later. So she screamed and shouted, words that should never be repeated. But he ignored her. She finally stopped, realizing that nothing she could say could ever hurt him the way he had hurt her.

She turned and ran out. The sky was dark now. She grabbed a candle from the table and made her way to the staircase. Before she knew it she was back in her room. She set the candle on the floor and curled up tightly on the bed, but she didn't cry. No, she was far too angry to cry.

Whatever had she done to deserve this? All she had ever thought to do was to save her people, to save Berk. It was more than that bastard had done, caving to the will of a tyrant, no, a _monster_. She would never be like him. Eret might deserve this kind of a life, but she certainly didn't.

An hour later, she heard the Master's clicking footsteps. She jolted upright as he reached the door, and this time, without hesitation, he opened it.

He stood by the door. She glared him down, her gaze filled with hatred. She couldn't see his expression through the mask, but there was something different about the way the man carried himself, something that Astrid, in her rage, was unable to place.

After a few minutes, he reached down and grabbed the candle.

Before the Master left, he spoke in an almost humorous tone. "Good night."

...

Astrid never saw Eret, son of Eret, again.


	12. Uncle

_A/N: This chapter is set a few years into the future. Don't forget to leave a review!_

* * *

"Gobber, what do you think?" the Chief pointed out to a cleared section of the woods, where nothing had been able to grow. "A few more houses over there? It wouldn't be too far from the great hall." The evening sun was casting an orange glow over Berk. From where they stood on the hill, the whole village was in sight. It was a beautiful sight, but Snotlout sighed, turning from it, back to Gobber.

"It's hard laddie, you don't have to hide it from me."

"It's just…" The chief turned back to the village. The houses were all finished, gleaming without marks of claws or burns. Looking down at the sight, it was hard to imagine what the Hooligan tribe had endured. "This is the first time that we've needed to expand, since - everything." He shook his head. "I should be happy, I should be proud, but I just _can't_ , Gobber."

The Blacksmith hobbled closer, putting his hand on the chief's shoulder. "We've all lost something. But it's over now."

Snotlout nodded, straightening up. "Do you think over there is a good patch? We wouldn't have to clear any of the woods."

Gobber sighed and nodded. " 'et's a good spot."

"I'll go tell Fishlegs then." He turned and descended the path back down to the village, not looking back.

* * *

Snotlout was in his hut, the Chief's hut, trying to pick out a good ax. Most of his were dull, and some of them hadn't been used in years. He was trying to pick out a good one to use to help fell some trees to help with the construction, when there was a knock at the door. A moment later, it was opened by a fair-haired boy.

"Uncle Snot, are you home?"

"Aye kid, what are you here for? Is Fishlegs with you?"

"Nah, Dad's down by the forge." The lad walked over to the barrel of axes. "I was looking for you. What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find a good ax, but most of these are dull and useless."

"What about this one?" The boy picked out one with wide blades, dragons' heads engraved on both sides. "It looks sharp to me."

Snotlout looked down at the boy, holding the large weapon in both hands. The chief smiled, kneeling down to the boy's level and taking the ax. "Harald, I don't think I can use this blade."

"Why not?"

"This ax is very special. It belonged to Stoick the Vast, my uncle. Did your Dad ever tell you about him?"

Harald shook his head. "I've heard of Stoick though, some of the elders told me about him."

Snotlout smiled. "He was incredibly strong. Legend says when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders. And he was wiser than most of us, except for maybe you and your Dad." He ruffled the boy's hair, almost knocking the lad over, and they shared a laugh. "He taught me that "there is no task too small when it comes to serving your people."" He said, imitating Stoick's deeper voice. "He gave everything for us to have a future. He was a far better chief than I could ever be."

"But you're Snotlout the Strong!" Harald protested. "You're amazing!"

Snotlout snickered. "I am, aren't I?" He looked down at Stoick's ax. The hilt fit snugly in his large hands, like it was meant to have been his all along. But it wasn't, and it never would be.

He looked back up at the boy, who he realized was also staring at the blade. "Harald, there is something I've been meaning to tell you for a few years now. I think that now you are old enough."

He stood, moving to sit on a large chair by the fire, and the boy eagerly pulled up a small bench. "What is it, Uncle?"

"You know that I don't have any children of my own. I've decided to name you as my heir."

Harald paled. "But - but I can't be chief! I'm not ready."

"Not right now, there are many years yet before that day will come, and when it does, you will be ready!"

"W-why can't you just get married and have a kid of your own?"

The chief sighed. "I can't get married. I loved someone once, but all of the available women are too young for me, kid. It's not meant to be."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Who did you love once? Why didn't you marry them?"

Snotlout smiled in remembrance. "She was a Valkyrie if there ever was one. Her name was Astrid."

"I've never heard of anyone named that," said the boy.

"No one speaks of her anymore. They haven't forgotten about her, but it is a sad story. No one likes to remember what happened."

There was a pause. Harald was curious, but did not want to make his uncle remember something that was too sad to talk about. "How did you fall in love with her?"

"I was always attracted to her, but it was a long time before I really loved her." He shook his head. "I was a real jerk when I was a teenager. I thought I could get whatever I wanted because I was the heir, including Astrid. She gave me more than enough bruises to prove me otherwise, but I was stupid and kept trying. Then the Dragon raids got worse. It was harder and harder to survive, and I started to care less about 'getting the girl' and more about the good of the village. And as time went on, when I did look at her, I realized more and more how much of a jerk I had been. One day, I found the courage to apologize to her."

"What did she do?"

"She broke my arm. But then that was it, I left her alone, and she didn't hate me anymore.

"The dragon raids had stopped by then, but things were still difficult. There was still a lot of hatred, and a lot of good people - people we both knew - died. And then, I realized that it would kill me if something happened to Astrid. I realized that I really loved her. Stoick went to her family and arranged it, and soon we were officially betrothed." He paused. "It was a few weeks later that she disappeared, the same day the Chief died. I had to keep going, because I was the next chief. Everyone was looking to me for leadership." Harald had grown quiet, saddened by the story. Snotlout placed the ax into the boy's small hands. "Just like one day, they will be looking to you. Here, it's your's. Stoick would want you to have it."

Harald's eyes lit up, still uncertain, but amazed at the weapon and that it was now his. "Are you sure Uncle Snot?"

"Yes. Now take this home before you get a scratch on it, and then go find your father and tell him I've been looking for him."


	13. The Dragon

Astrid waited all morning for Eret to come and let her out, but he never came. Around midday, she happened to try the door, and it swung open. She assumed Eret had come to unbolt it while she was still asleep, but when she ascended to the main rooms where he normally was, she couldn't find him. The door to his hallway was open, and some of Eret's things were still there, but he wasn't. At first, she was happy that he was gone, given what had happened the night before, but the loneliness soon closed in on her again. She searched the entire wing, but he was gone and he didn't return.

She returned to her room that night, and no one came to lock her in. She felt such freedom at first, deciding she would sleep somewhere else just to get out of that room, but in the hallway, she saw several deadly nadders; they turned to her and growled, and she slowly shut the door again. Whenever she normally came across a dragon in the castle, they would be tucked off in some corner asleep, but at night they were more active. At least when she was behind a closed door she had some layer of protection, so she stayed in the room and continued to return to it (which was mostly because her bed was bolted to the floor, which made it kind of difficult to move). She did, however, pry the latches and bolts off with an old rusty piece of armor she'd found when exploring the wing, ensuring that she wouldn't be locked back in.

There was a room at the back of the kitchen where the food was stored. Whenever it was running low, a crate or two would appear overnight with more. When Eret was there, she had sometimes helped him to prepare meals. She used to be a terrible cook, and so he only rarely let her help, but now making all of her meals on her own was something to fill her time, and she improved greatly at it. She found an empty journal in what was left of Eret's things - though no weapons, unfortunately - and began to keep a diary again, careful to hide it much better this time around. She also trained when she could, and regained her strength.

For a couple of weeks, things went this way, and she was left to her own devices, guarded by only the dragons. One day she was in one of the larger hallways, sketching a sleeping grockle, when a few dragons suddenly came by. She stood and pressed her back against the wall as they passed, completely ignoring her. They were followed by the night fury and the Dragon Master. He saw her, but looked at her only briefly, continuing on as they were followed by a couple of zipplebacks, and they all disappeared down the tunnel.

As the days drug on, a couple more occurrences like this happened. When she did see her captor, he no longer stopped to look at her and paid her no more than a glance before he continued on to wherever he was headed. She figured that perhaps it brought the Master some sick pleasure for her to hate him, so she stopped glaring and pretended to ignore him, just as he was ignoring her. In reality, it was gnawing at her every time he passed that he was just keeping her here, against her will, just because he could.

One evening, she built up her courage and planted herself on a bench in the hallway instead of going to her room. As the night began, she could hear the dragons waking up and moving down the hallways. She was tempted to get up and run back to her room, but she tightened her grip on the wooden bench, not allowing herself to be moved by cowardice. A monstrous nightmare turned the corner and came towards her, stopping when it came into the torchlight, growling at her with its hideous fangs. A few more dragons came by, gathering around a few feet from her. One of them, a smaller one of a species she didn't recognize, ran up and grabbed at her leather skirt with its fangs and tugged. Its fangs tore right through the skirt as she gripped the bench, refusing to be moved. She kicked it away with her boot when it tried to grab at her again, and one of the others began to growl, building a fire up in its throat.

Maybe staying out here had been a mistake.

Suddenly the dragons stepped back cowering. As a few of them scattered, Astrid saw a dark shadow as it crept closer. A black dragon stepped into the light.

She remembered, as a child, how the Night fury would sometimes join a dragon raid. Men would throw themselves against the ground to avoid its plasmablasts, and its screech struck fear into the hearts of even the bravest warriors. And that was before the Dragon Master made an appearance. And now, here the beast was, right in front of her, glaring at the other dragons. They quickly scampered off, leaving her alone with the Night fury.

She peered down the empty hall, but there was no sign of the Master. The night fury turned to her and crept closer. She shimmied back on the bench, which accomplished nothing as the dragon stopped with its head only a couple of feet from her face. Its eyes met hers, staring her down. The eyes seemed to look straight into her soul, and she was transfixed, unable to turn away.

After a few moments, its black pupils dilated from near slits to orbs surrounded by green. It sat back, tilting its head. It seemed almost - gentle.

She leaned forward, curious, and it didn't growl at her. The creature was strange; all the other dragons either ignored her or looked like they wanted to eat her, but this - _night fury_ , of all things, was looking at her with curiosity.

She was struck, dumbfounded, until it crept towards her again, sniffing at her. She almost jumped when it stuck its nose up against her side. "Hey!" It nudged her again, almost knocking her over. "What are you doing?" It opened its mouth, but she didn't see any teeth. She squinted; didn't it have teeth last she'd seen it?

It licked her face.

She wiped off the slobber as it stepped back again, panting playfully as one would expect from a dog. Unable to help it, she laughed. Just a minute ago, she had been terrified of the night fury, but this turn of events was the opposite of what she had expected. She'd never ever seen a dragon behave this way. "What was that for?"

It warbled, almost as if it were laughing. Astrid smiled.

The dragon curled up next to her, heating the ground below its paws, warming the space next to her. Astrid laid down on the bench, hoping to get some rest. She kept looking at the black dragon, her eyes catching the strange shape of one of its back fins. The tail was shaped the same on each side, but a strange mechanism was around the base of the tail, though it was hard to make out in the torchlight, with her eyes drifting out of focus as exhaustion took hold.

She had begun to drift off when the Night Fury lifted its head, perking up at a sound only a dragon's ears could hear. Soon she heard it too; she jolted up at the faint clink of metal against stone.

The Master was standing across from them, on the other side of the hall.

The dragon shifted, laying its head back down. Astrid panicked, half-awake but terrified as the masked man stepped closer. He looked at her, and then at his dragon, and then back to her.

Neither of them said anything. Eventually, he took another step closer, setting something on the bench beside her, and then made to leave.

She turned and saw that he had left a dark fur blanket.

All the time she had been here, she had never said a word to the Master. She pestered Eret with questions that went unanswered, but she could never bring herself to ask the Master directly. Maybe she had hated him too much to give him the satisfaction, or maybe it was something else that had kept her silent. Right now, she was too tired to remember the reason, but she was filled with the sudden urge to ask, "What's your name? Your real name?"

He stopped, his back still to her. There was a long pause, and she wondered if he was going to answer. They were interrupted by a distant screech from somewhere in the castle, which seemed to rouse the Master's attention. He turned to the Night Fury, which had also perked up. "Watch over her, Bud."

Then he left. The Night Fury curled up and went back to sleep. When the night grew cold, Astrid grabbed for the blanket, without thinking about who she had gotten it from. She was too tired to care.

* * *

The masked man had been watching the interaction from the shadows. There was something about the girl that won his dragon's trust. Maybe she was worth keeping alive after all.


	14. The Submission of Berk

_A/N: We're now about halfway through what I have plotted out for this story. Be sure to let me know how I'm doing!_

* * *

It was early in the morning on Berk, after a raid. All the fires had been put out and repairs were underway, and Snotlout was on his way to the Chief with the report. The problem was, the Chief was hard to find. Normally he would head any repair effort, but today not only was he absent, but so were the elders. A search of the Great Hall ended in vain, but there was light in the Chief's house, so Snotlout ran in without knocking. He stopped when he saw the entire council gathered in the Chief's living room. They turned at his barging in, and from the disappointment on the faces of the elders, he started to back out of the house.

"Snotlout!" Stoick stopped him, getting up. "Do you have my report for me son?"

"Uh, yeah. The fires are all put out, and repairs are underway at the Thorston hut, but the twins are making things difficult…" The council continued to look at the boy, making him even more conscious about his interruption, but before he could leave, Stoick dismissed the council.

"We'll discuss this again at noon," the Chief said as he tried to help Gothi over the doorstep, and she didn't swat him away with her stick like she was known for doing.

Several of the elders patted the heir on the shoulder as they left, or gave him a strange smile that didn't carry any joy. When the elders had all left, Snotlout realized that he was still standing by the door. The Chief sat back down in his large chair with a sigh.

"Is there something wrong Chief?"

"Yes, there is."

"Was it that I…"

"No, Snotlout. But knock next time." He beckoned for the teen to come closer. Snotlout shut the door and obeyed. "We can't take another dragon raid. Winter is coming, and we've already lost too many crops. And we can't trade or fish too far from the shore."

"We can't help it that this demon keeps attacking us. We fought him off this time. We didn't lose any crops last night."

Stoick shook his head. "I'm beginning to think we can never fight him off. He could have brought more dragons. If he wanted to destroy us all, all he had to do was give the order. He's playing a twisted game and we're the pieces."

"What are you saying? That we should surrender?" Snotlout scoffed.

To his surprise, Stoick didn't answer.

His eyes widened in realization. "You... You're just going to give up!?" He shouted. "But we're Vikings! Let me fight him, I'll show the Dragon Master who's a coward!"

"And get yourself killed! Just like everyone else who's tried and failed. Do you think they were cowards, Snotlout? Do you think their deaths were worth it, that it earned them seats in Valhalla? What about the others, the mothers who have to feed their kids? What am I going to tell them when the food stores are empty and everything is burned to the ground?!"

Snotlout couldn't answer him.

"We've been on this island for seven generations. This is not a decision I take lightly. The council has been discussing this for several weeks now."

"You're the Chief. You have to encourage them to fight! They'll follow you into battle…"

"I know! They will follow me even if they think it's wrong! A chief protects his own, and I can't protect anyone by sending them to the slaughter! I was too late to save my son, but I will not be too late to save Berk!" Stoick paused, his eyes full of anger and sadness as he turned away from his nephew.

"It's not your fault Hiccup was such a wimp," the teen muttered.

"Do you even remember what happened to him?" The chief didn't turn to face him, but his voice was filled with a cold, contained rage. This was far from the first time his late son had been insulted to his face. The hardest part of it was that for the longest time, he didn't have a good reason why they shouldn't criticize the boy, besides that he was born a chief's son.

"Yeah, he got lost in the woods, carried off by a dragon or something. Pathetic. He was nine years old and he still couldn't lift a sword."

"It was on the night of a dragon raid. I told him to stay inside and assumed he had the sense to take care of himself. We chased the dragons to the other side of the village, and I didn't even think about my son until the fight was over, and by then the sun had risen. On the way back home, I even stopped to help with some of the repairs. I cared so much about everyone else, but I didn't even think about sending someone to check on my boy.

"He was more affected by the raids than everyone else. He used to hide under the bed and not come out until the dragons were long gone. I didn't think I had time to worry about his cowardice when the village needed saving. But when I got home, the back door was broken open. This room was nearly torn apart." He pointed to several large claw marks on the wooden floor, still there after so many years. "I thought my boy was gone, but someone found his trail leading deep into the woods. He'd gotten away from the dragon in the house, and we set out to find him, but we were too late.

"I called for a search party and we spent two days searching the woods. There was no blood, but his trail ended in the middle of a clearing, and we found his notebook on the ground. If I had come home sooner, someone might have found him when he was wandering the woods, before he was carried off. I ignored my son, and I was too late to save him.

"And for a time, I even thought maybe it was better he was gone. But then, a couple of years ago, I found his old notebook when I was cleaning the house. It was filled with hundreds of ideas for inventions that could help Berk. Gobber even used a couple of the ideas to improve our defenses against the dragon raids. Hiccup was different, but he could have been one of the best of us if I had listened to him or given him a chance."

Snotlout scoffed. "How does Hiccup have anything to do with _surrendering_ Berk?"

"We have to learn from our mistakes. I cared more about making the dragons pay than protecting my son. If we continue to fight the Dragon Master like there's no other way, Berk won't survive!"

Snotlout scowled at his uncle. How could he compare losing his useless son to losing all of Berk? "Well, what makes you think things will get better after you give up? What if he still doesn't let us trade and keeps killing us!"

"Then that's a chance we'll have to take!" Stoick went to the door. "You'll understand one day, Snotlout. Sometimes the best thing we can do to protect those we care about is to stop trying to fight." Stoick left, slamming the heavy door behind him.

Snotlout was left behind, fuming. He could never forgive Stoick for this. How could they possibly _give up?_ He didn't really listen to his uncle's words, and it would be a long time before he understood them.

Stoick paused on the way to the Great Hall. Like the other times he thought of his wife or his son, he held back his pain and continued on. There was no way he could have known that his son had survived. But with who the boy grew to become, would he have wanted to know?


	15. The Gift

When Astrid woke up the next morning, the black dragon was gone. She wondered if she had imagined the events of the previous evening until she saw the blanket she was using. She threw it to the side and searched the area. Most of the dragons were gone, and she figured that the Master must have gone somewhere.

Later that morning she happened to stop by her room, and she found a small metal box on the floor. On top of the box was a short note.

..

 _If it dies, you won't get another._

 _.._

She shut the door to the room and sat cross-legged in front of the box. _What does it mean, if it dies? Is it something alive?_ Confused but curious, Astrid cautiously unlatched the lid and opened it. There was a bright light coming from inside that seemed to take the form of a small lizard. Upon closer examination, she realized it wasn't a lizard at all. It was a fireworm.

She jumped back as the fireworm flew from the box to the wall. She'd never seen a fireworm before, but she'd heard of them. They could set an entire village on fire, but only in a large swarm. Alone, their fire wasn't very bright, and so one of them was nearly harmless when compared to the other, more dangerous dragon species.

 _Why the heck would he give me a fireworm?_

"Hey little guy, what were you doing in that box?" She stepped closer, and it suddenly darted all around the room, trailing fire behind it. She ducked down as it flew overhead.

The room was made of stone, so nothing on the walls or floor was catching, but the bed was made of wood and the sheets were flammable. She did not want to spend another uncomfortable night on a cold bench because a dragon set her bed on fire. Luckily it landed on the floor before its flames could cause any damage. It curled up in the corner, realizing it had no way to get out of the room.

Astrid moved forward more calmly this time, trying not to startle it. After a few minutes, the fireworm's fire died down to an orange glow. It was only a few inches long, its tiny features difficult to make out, but it was beautiful. It looked at Astrid curiously, and eventually, it slithered closer on its many legs.

With all the dragons Astrid had seen, each had its own level of ferocity, enough to leave the younger children with nightmares. From fangs and claws to horns and scars, they could hardly be considered pleasant to look at. But this particular dragon, even if it couldn't be compared to a dog or a cat, was almost _cute_ , in a way.

It reminded her of the night fury. Though it had never stopped being - well, a night fury - it had seemed gentle and playful.

All her life she had been taught that all dragons were bad. On Berk, all the dragons had ever done was attack them, and so it was hard to see any good in them. But maybe, just maybe, not all dragons were the evil they were made out to be.

After some hesitation, she reached out her hand. The fireworm glanced up at her face before readily climbing onto her hand. It was warm, but not hot enough to burn her skin. It could fit nicely in her palm, and she brought it up as she stood. Maybe she would keep him with her, if only to keep her company.

"But only if you don't set my room on fire," she said with a laugh. Even the fireworm couldn't have understood what she meant, she could have sworn it _smiled_ at her.

He lept up to her shoulder and curled up in a ball, quickly falling asleep. She didn't want to startle him, for fear of him setting her clothes on fire, so she tied her hair over the other shoulder and carefully made her way out of her room and down the hall. When she made it to the kitchen, she gently peeled him off and set him on one of the tables.

With nothing better to do, she started to fiddle through whatever was in the food supply. After a few minutes, she had a concoction simmering over the stove that, remarkably, resembled something palatable. The smell woke up the fireworm; he sniffed the air and followed the scent trail over to a bowl Astrid had just poured. She watched as he sniffed the strange liquid and sneezed.

"Yeah, I know, it's not very good is it?" The fireworm looked back at the bowl and climbed onto the rim, circling it until he was closer to Astrid. He brought up his tail closer to the one side as he partly stood up on the rim. The shifted weight caused the bowl to tip over, falling right over him.

He shrieked, and Astrid ran and grabbed a towel. When she got back the fireworm had managed to make his way out from under the overturned bowl, but his scales were a pale brown and he did not look happy to be covered in weird-smelling stew. She brought the towel close, and when he didn't try to dart away - though he shot her a disappointed look - she did her best to wipe him off, trying not to laugh. "Hey, don't get mad at me, it's not my fault you got wet."

He glared for a couple more seconds before taking off. He flew straight for the window, shaking off the stew as he went.

Astrid sighed as she finished cleaning up. Was she really talking to a dragon? That thing wasn't going to understand her. It didn't even want to be near her for very long. But a few minutes later, he came flying back and landed on the kitchen table, back to its bright golden color. Huh. Maybe he only took a flight to clean himself off. But why was he back here then?

She reached out her hands and he climbed right on. Had he come back for her? Why?

He suddenly lit himself on fire. She yelped, dropping him and shaking out her hands before rinsing them in a nearby bucket of water. He hadn't burnt her seriously, but the skin was red. The fireworm had flown back to the table, unhurt. "What was that for?!" she demanded.

She tore a kitchen cloth and started to wrap her palms, sitting across from the dragon. "You see this? You did that." She winced as the material touched one of the more sensitive places. "It hurts!"

The fireworm curled in on himself, cowering as she scolded him. After her hands were wrapped, and she had cooled down, she realized that he still hadn't flown off or left her alone.

Maybe he had burned her on accident? After all, this was a dragon that was used to setting himself on fire. He'd also ruined her lunch, but that had been an accident too.

Astrid went and grabbed a roll of bread, and tore off a small piece and set it in front of him. As she ate, the fireworm swallowed his small chunk whole. "Well, if you want to stay, I need a name for you." Right after she said this the fireworm sneezed. While she pondered what to call him, a few moments later he sneezed again, except it wasn't exactly a sneeze.

"You have hiccups I bet. That's why you're supposed to chew your food."

He hiccuped again, this time jumping a few inches up off the table. Astrid snickered. "Hmm…" This reminded her of something. A few years back the Berk chief had a kid named hiccup. The name had represented the boy pretty well, and he died a long time ago, but the point was that Hiccup was a real name that had been used before. Thus, it would be perfectly reasonable to name a cute little lizard the same thing.

"What do you think, you little Hiccup?" The fireworm startled himself with yet another hiccup, and curled up on the table for a brief moment before eying the rest of Astrid's roll, and he darted forward to snag another piece.


End file.
